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Blown Sideways, but Landing on Broadway

The Cypress Hills Cemetery in Queens only seemed quiet, but Claudia Shear knew better. She waved her arm toward the hundreds of gravestones that surrounded her and said: ''Aren't we lucky? That's what everyone is telling us now.''

Luck is very much on Ms. Shear's mind these days, and for good reason.

Her new play, ''Dirty Blonde,'' about love, cross-dressing and Mae West, just opened on Broadway. (Ben Brantley of The New York Times called it ''hands down the best new American play of the season.'') The show has been nominated for five Drama Desk Awards, including best actress for her own performance and best play, based on an idea she developed at the New York Theater Workshop with the show's director, James Lapine.

''I'm the luckiest girl on Broadway,'' she said more than once. And she was back at the cemetery to visit the girl who inspired ''Dirty Blonde,'' who may have been the last woman before Ms. Shear to write her own Broadway play (not a one-woman show) and star in it: ''Sex'' in 1927. West is buried in the Cypress Hills Abbey, a mausoleum built in 1926, with her parents and siblings. Ms. Shear set one of the scenes of her play there.

While her sense of luck and gratitude is touching, the fact remains that she has made much of her own luck. No one was lining up to cast an overweight woman as an actress, but her first play, ''Blown Sideways Through Life,'' won an Obie Award in 1994, was published by Dial Press and was produced for television by American Playhouse. It ran for a year off Broadway, chronicling her own life story as a runaway who endured 64 menial jobs to support herself, everything from short-order cook to brothel receptionist.

Being an outsider, Mr. Lapine says, is one of Ms. Shear's strengths, in the same way it was one of West's. ''Mae West came from left field in the same way Claudia does,'' he says. ''It's a matter of finding the right kind of persona for her talent instead of trying to be someone else. Both are forces of nature. Claudia is unstoppable, and I imagine Mae West was the same. You don't want to get in Claudia's way when she's set her mind on something.'' Indeed not. After two hours in her company, first eating lunch at Diner beneath the Williamsburg Bridge near her Brooklyn apartment, then driving to the cemetery, I watched her leave additional money with the 40 percent tip I had already left and listened to her bark instructions at her publicity agent via cell phone (''This is what I want. . . .'') and at me (''Put your seat belt on!'').

Her fingernails and toenails were painted the same shade of shocking pink, her sunglasses were orange plastic to complement her striped shirt, and she gleefully recalled meeting the Broadway stagehands who would witness her many costume changes by saying: ''Hi! You're going to see me naked. Nice to meet you.'' She's the kind of person who is ''on'' even when no one else is looking.

''It's hard for me to come up with a downside to being an outsider,'' she said at lunch, hungrily eating a B.L.T. ''Sure, I'd love to be Jennifer Ehle and have Rosemary Harris as my mother. But with 'Blown Sideways,' the very things that were the trials of my life -- that I was alone, that behind my heels was the abyss, that the only thing I wanted to be was an actress, wanted it so badly and no one thought I was good at it or right for it -- well, those trials became the making of me.

''I think of what it would be like to be young, beautiful, thin, perceived as a serious actress. But when you have this edifice that is your life, you think, 'What would I remove to have those?' Not a thing.''

Despite her success (she has been a guest star on ''Friends,'' written a screenplay for Meg Ryan and had a sitcom deal with DreamWorks), she won't even consider moving to Manhattan. ''My apartment costs nothing,'' she said, adding that by keeping it she did not have to take work she did not like. ''I live my life my own way,'' she said emphatically. ''It's like the houseguest thing. I'd rather sleep in a box in the alley.''

Though she always wanted to act, she came to writing later in life. It was James C. Nicola, the artistic director of New York Theater Workshop, who suggested she start what became ''Blown Sideways,'' with the idea that her own material might suit her best.

''People think because I write in the first person that I'm not writing, not acting, and it's all about me,'' she said. When she wrote ''Dirty Blonde,'' though, she continued, ''I would try on clothes, put on makeup, dance to songs, walk around my apartment for hours as Mae. Then I'd make a lot of phone calls, sit down, get up, sit down and get up five hours later. With writing, it's as if I woke up one morning with a piano in my house and I knew how to play it.''

When she was younger she was too busy supporting herself, first while earning a degree at City University, later as she tried to become an actress. Her parents divorced when she was a child, and her father, assistant chief of the New York Fire Department, married another woman and adopted her children before he died, which is all Ms. Shear will reveal about him. In ''Blown Sideways'' she referred to running away, though she has since reconciled with her mother, a former account executive at Helena Rubenstein, who, her daughter said, ''used to work 99 hours a day.''

In ''Dirty Blonde'' Ms. Shear plays two characters, Mae West and Jo, an overweight, ordinary New Yorker who meets a man who also worships Mae West. It's about confidence, love and sex. And Ms. Shear, as Mae, plays sexy.

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''If people didn't buy that, the play wouldn't work,'' she said, acknowledging that plays and films with large women as sex symbols are not a common sight.

''Listen, as a child I was tormented by sports,'' she said. ''Who wins? Who cares? But when I began to study dance, my body ceased to matter. I accepted it.''

She looked thoughtful. ''These are deep personal topics, and I have a very dichotomous feeling about it. Part of me doesn't want to refer to it. And the other side is you've got to tell the truth. If I hide and say I'm ashamed of myself, it doesn't help anybody.'' She smiled slyly. ''I also go to London, Paris and Rome, where I have a huge amount of friends and I have handsome men kiss me on terraces in front of the Eiffel Tower. That doesn't hurt. But love is a whole different question.''

''I started this play from a place of great heartbreak,'' she went on, speaking of a failed relationship. ''That's how I connected to Mae West. I'm not a big important white-guy playwright. To me the play is about such profoundly personal things. Who will love me if they know what I really am? Who will truly love me?'' She cried and pressed a paper napkin to her eyes. ''When I wrote 'Blown Sideways,' I just thought I'd get an agent,'' she said. ''But to this day people come up to me and grab my hand and say, 'I'm you and you're me.' The really true stuff becomes universal.'' Does she think about having children? She nodded. Getting married? She half nodded. ''It's about finding a kindred spirit,'' she said. ''I don't know what makes that happen. I guess it depends on what you look like in pants.''

At Cypress Hills, on her way into the mausoleum, she swamped herself in an enormous cashmere sweater to keep warm and protect her voice. It was frigid as Bill Moloney, the assistant manager, led us upstairs. (The Abbey is closed to the public.) ''We have Jackie Robinson here and Peter Luger,'' he said by way of conversation. ''Here she is.'' He stopped in front of a wall where the coffins are entombed broadside behind panels of Italian marble. ''Mae West 1893-1980'' the top one says, the others lined up beneath it.

Ms. Shear stepped toward the iron gate that stands in front of the wall and placed a vial of pomegranate oil there that she had brought back from Florence. She stepped back and her eyes filled.

''Her birthday was August, right?'' Mr. Moloney asked.

She nodded: ''Aug. 17.''

He continued: ''Every August we have a corrections officer, at Rikers, I think, a young lady who brings her flowers. Every August.''

Ms. Shear stepped back from the wall and sighed. ''Thank you,'' she said, turning to go. It wasn't clear to whom she was speaking.

As we drove back to Manhattan her mood lifted as she talked about her co-stars, Kevin Chamberlin and Bob Stillman.

''I laugh onstage sometimes, I can't help it,'' she said. ''And James calls me and says, 'Absolutely no laughing onstage!' She smiled. ''I always say Olivier had that problem, too.''

Mired in traffic, with a chiropractor, a hairdresser and a rehearsal waiting, Ms. Shear refused to even consider being late. ''I will be there,'' she said loudly, focusing on the other side of the bridge.

You can't help but root for her. She's got to get there, keep going, stay at it. Because she's only at the beginning. And besides, it's like West said: ''A dame that knows the ropes isn't likely to get tied up.''